Coward
by Twilight to Midnight
Summary: Rose Weasley receives her mother's memoirs upon Hermione's suicide and through it she discovers a story of bitter truths and cowardice; of how one moment of selfish desire led to a lifetime of regret and anguish. DMHG at its darkest.


**Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR.**

**A/N:** Just so you all know. This is the polar opposite of Not Quite Dreaming. I think I make it very clear from the first chapter that there will be no fluff, no love conquering all, no happy ending. This is not a love story and it will, by no means, be redemptive in any way.

So be warned.

_

* * *

I was nine years old the first time my father convinced my mother that I was old enough to be left home alone. I was mature for my age, responsible; I never got into trouble, never swore, did my homework on time and ate all my vegetables without being scolded. It was their thirteenth wedding anniversary and they went out to dinner._

_I stayed home, did my homework, watched the hour of television that I was allowed and made myself dinner. Just two minute noodles and scrambled eggs. I burnt them and my hand._

_It was a tiny injury, barely felt, just a little piece of reddened skin, it never even scarred. But when my mother returned, she cried like I had lost a finger and I was sent to bed with a promise that it would never happen again. Through the gap of my half open door, I could see my parents gathered in living room. My father held my mother in his arms and wiped away her tears._

"_To err is human," he said._

"_To forgive divine," she had replied._

_I had no idea then how those words would come to haunt me, what they would mean to me at seventeen. That summer I watched Draco Malfoy die, allowed him to die when I could've saved him. In all my Gryffindor glory, my courage and my honour, I let McNair cut him to pieces for standing with the Order._

_I have erred and only the divine could forgive. Only Draco will forgive me._

From the memoirs of Hermione Granger-Weasley, left to her daughter Rose, upon her suicide, aged 48.

* * *

"I'm telling you it's not fucking safe. Hermione, you have to stay here. If they catch you…"

"They'll kill me. Yes I know." Hermione huffed, running a hand through her hair. "They'll do the same to you."

Harry crowded close to her, grabbing her arms as he shook her. "Haven't you been reading the Daily Prophet? Did you read about what they did to the last Muggleborn they caught? They didn't just kill her, they raped her, tore her apart from the inside out. There were bite marks all over her, her neck was torn by a lupine teeth. Do you know what that means? Greyback's pack, Hermione, that's what will happen!"

Angry tears formed in her eyes. She was a Gryffindor, damn it, she would fight this war by their side. "We've destroyed all the Horcruxes, the final battle is…"

Ron pushed Harry aside and drew her into his arms allowing her to stifle her angry tears against his warm, steady shoulder. "The final battle could be months away and Voldemort's getting bolder; he's got people looking for us everywhere. It would be too obvious to travel with you. He knows you're the brains of this operation, that we'd never leave you behind. If it's just Harry and me then…then…"

He didn't have to finish his sentence, Hermione understood his meaning. Ron's hold on her tightened, he pressed his warm lips soothingly to her temple then just as gently, to her lips. She clung to him desperately for an endless second, taking in his warmth as if it would be the last time. When he began pulling away, she allowed it, loosening her hold as she drew a deep, shuddering breath, pushing back the tears until she was composed enough to raise her head.

"Promise you'll be careful." She murmured, her eyes fierce. "Promise you'll come back as soon as it gets too intense and you need my help."

"I swear it, Hermione." Harry intoned, aged far beyond his years.

"We have to find them. Hundreds of students disappeared from Hogwarts when it was invaded. Not all of them are dead. We have to get to them before the Death Eaters do. Lupin's sure McGonagall's led them into the forbidden forest around the grounds. She has to be hiding them until she can contact the Order."

McGonagall couldn't do that yet, she had no idea where the Order could be. Grimmauld Place had been destroyed on a raid, the Burrow burnt to the ground. The Order of the Phoenix, battered, bruised but not beaten had escaped and set up this war camp on the eastern shores of Ireland. Just close enough to England to allow apparation, but not close enough for Death Eaters to stumble across.

Ron smoothed back a strand of her hair and kissed her again. It could be months, she knew, before she would see him again. The forbidden forest was a maze and a death trap to anyone who wasn't familiar with the territory; with Death Eaters roaming the land too, it could be the last time she saw the boy she had loved since she was old enough to want him.

"You'll be busy too," Ron said with a sad smile, "Shacklebolt's got a few missions lined up for you when you get a proper partner."

"Who would that be?" Hermione muttered with a resigned smile. "Ginny's probably in the forest, Neville's with her, Tonks and Lupin won't be separated and Shacklebolt's too busy running everything. I'll end up babysitting Teddy."

"Someone will put their hand up for it, Mione. You'll get your fair share of blood and gore too." Harry took her by the hand and led her from the tent.

One arm around each of her boys, she walked into the cool coastal air, immediately tasting the saline flavour of the sea on her tongue. Her cheeks lost their warmth within seconds and as both Harry and Ron drew away from her, her body felt cold as ice too.

The scenery beyond them was a picture of rugged beauty. The Order's camp sat atop a steep incline, a sheer cliff-face at their backs. The land itself seemed to drop away to nothing though Hermione knew, hundreds of feet down; there was a rocky beach and a maze of caves.

The golden trio now stood grimly within the centre of the camp, surrounded by the tiered tents. It reminded her of the Quidditch world cup in its sheer scale but there was no joviality, no excitement. Hundreds of Order members came and went each day, their normal homes in England abandoned so that they could follow the army of the Light.

Professor Sprout teetered past with a grim, acknowledging nod in their direction.

"Take care of yourself, Mione." Harry hugged her gently and drew away to allow her a little privacy with Ron.

"Come back to me, Ron." She said, proud that her voice was steady though her eyes watered tellingly.

"I'd be barmy not to."

His lips moulded to hers gently again, giving her a taste of his own tears before he moved a step back, wiping his face with a ragged sleeve. He slung his haphazardly packed bag over one shoulder and let his eyes linger on her a moment then with twin echoing pops, Hermione stood alone.

Lightening streaked brilliantly across the overcast sky as Molly stepped from the large Mess tent. The light scent of dinner followed her and wrapped around Hermione as the matron took her hand and led her inside. Four long tables with accompanying benches sat within, reminding Hermione of Hogwarts, and off to the side, Molly had set up her makeshift kitchen where pots full of filling soup always bubbled and the archaic pot-bellied woodstove ovens churned out batch after batch of freshly baked bread and cakes.

Luna stood there, absently stirring a boiling pot of water as Arthur scooped in bowl after bowl of dry, uncooked pasta.

"Have a cup of tea, dear." Molly advised as she led her to the very back of the tent where the large stretch of canvas was held open to allow for a view of the Irish Sea. All the private residential tents sat further downhill so nothing blocked the view save for a stretch of lawn which was often used as a landing area for travellers who came by portkey, brooms or other conveyances.

As soon as she sat, Luna joined her on the opposite bench, handing her a steaming mug. Dressed in a rag-tag collection of donated clothing, Hermione thought she too looked older, aged by the war.

"How's your father?"

Luna smiled absently. "He's sleeping. Doesn't like to leave our tent, you know."

Hermione understood. Ever since Luna had been rescued from the Malfoy dungeons, Xenophilius had been nearly prostrate with guilt and rarely left their little tent near the edge of the encampment. He feared reprisal for his near successful betrayal of the trio but if Hermione had been honest with herself, she too would've done the same thing for her own child in a similar situation.

Luna stretched across and took her hand. "They'll be alright, you'll see. Harry and Ron have been getting out of scrapes since first year."

"With my help, Luna! God, what if, what if they come across the Death Eaters before…"

"Have faith," Luna coaxed, "I've never met any two people more worthy of it."

Hermione nodded, squeezing Luna's hand just as a heavy rain began to fall outside. Lightning struck close to the cliff-face followed by a bright tell-tale flash of light.

"Portkey." Hermione stood with a jolt, dropping her tea onto the grass as she drew her wand. "Arthur! Molly! Unauthorised Portkey!"

Luna drew her wand too and Hermione darted into the rain, curses on the tip of her tongue as she watched three dark robed figures tumble onto the sodden grass. Arthur Weasley drew even with her even as Hermione heard Molly's voice alerting the rest of the camp of their unwelcome intruders.

"Steady, Hermione." Arthur hissed beside her. "Steady."

Rain dripped from her hair, obscuring her vision but even then, she could not fail to recognise the white blonde hair.

"Death Eaters!" She screamed, starting forward. "Expelliarmus!"

Three wands flew effortlessly into her hands. To easy, she thought as she quickly cast a suspicious glance at the three Malfoys.

Lucius raised himself wearily to his knees, his hands raised hesitatingly above his head as he carefully shielded his wife and son. His expression was tormented and haggard, his eyes noticeably bloodshot. His hair was singed and muddy on one side and there was a gruesome gash across his cheek. Narcissa too sported a variety of bruises and Draco clutched his side as he bled slowly from between those fingers.

"We come in peace. We…we seek refuge. Snape...Snape…"

A group of Aurors circled around the small family and as Lucius began to stand, pushed him down harshly onto his knees again.

"Don't move." Hermione commanded as she inched closer.

"Miss Granger," Narcissa addressed her pleadingly, "we have turned our backs on the Dark Lord. We…we have come to aid the Order of the Phoenix in this war."

"It's a trap!" One of the Aurors accused, lunging closer as he forced Narcissa close to her husband. "What are you really doing here, Malfoy? How did you find us? Is You-Know-Who on his way too?"

Lucius grabbed his wife and held her close, pulling her away from the Aurors threatening wand. "No! No! Damn it! Severus Snape, he gave us the Portkey." He reached slowly into his robes. "I have a letter from him…"

There was a long pause, the air latent with rain and suspicion as Malfoy proffered the letter. When no one took it, he lowered his arm tiredly and turned his eyes to Arthur.

"We've never had an easy acquaintance, Weasley; we've always been worlds apart." Lucius offered a bitter smile. "We do however have one thing in common, we value our families; we protect them and care for them through any means possible. That is why I'm here, why we're here. Please."

Arthur hesitated but Kingsley slid past him and gestured for the Aurors to back away. "Very well, Malfoy. Cooperate with us and we'll see if we can verify your story. Are you willing to take Veritaserum? Take the unbreakable vow to aid the Order in this war?"

"Yes." Lucius answered at a shout, no hesitation. He began to stand again, helping both Narcissa and Draco to their feet.

Draco wavered a little but stood firm.

With a battalion of Aurors with wands trained on them, the Malfoys were ushered towards the war tent. The canvas was batted aside as everyone entered, Hermione bringing up the rear as she shook of her wet jacket and watched wearily as the three captives were ushered to chairs to which they were carefully bound.

It must have been a shock to be where they were. All around the room, moving photographs of known Death Eaters were pinned to boards overflowing with gathered intelligence. There were vast maps rolled out on the tables, stacks of parchments, shelves of books and a large open armoire which housed a variety of potions, artefacts and various spare wands.

Kingsley carefully summoned Snape's letter from Lucius' hand and conjured it to open. He read the contents wearily and hesitantly took it in hand. Arthur retrieved it, carefully read the contents before he burnt it in the roaring fire.

"Snape is vouching for them." He declared to the gathered ensemble. He waved away the Auror contingent. "Stand down." The tired slouch in his shoulders was obvious as he rubbed his eyes and waited for the tent to clear. What had been a raucous gathering before was now a grim and silent ensemble and Hermione stood her ground, refusing to leave. She wanted to be present for this interrogation.

Kingsley approached the bound trio with a clear bottle of liquid. It glinted in the firelight, throwing off a brilliant spectrum of colours that belied its nature.

Lucius Malfoy opened his mouth unhesitatingly and five small drops were administered. He coughed harshly for a few moments before his head lolled listlessly to the side and those trademark grey eyes took on a milky glow. His gaze was focused far beyond the presence of the tent and the tension in face melted away to vacancy.

Narcissa whimpered and Hermione watched her dispassionately. She could still remember those long interminable hours held prisoner in their manor. The Malfoys may not have actively participated in her torture but inaction marked their guilt as surely. She still bore the mark, the fading scar pale and stark against her skin.

"Should we get medical help for Draco?" Luna broke the silence, alerting Hermione to her presence.

She frowned at the girl's presence but allowed it. Luna had just as much right to see this interrogation as she did.

"No," she commanded fiercely, "not yet. Not until we determine if it's worth the effort."

Arthur and Kingsley understood her vehemence and nodded, allowing her this one revenge, petty though it seemed and unequal to the crime. Shacklebolt stepped forward, ignoring the hiss from Draco as he framed Lucius' face with his hands, steadying the Malfoy patriarch as he carefully checked the physical symptoms to verify the efficient onset of the truth serum.

"What is your purpose in coming here?"

Lucius' face twisted for a moment as he struggled for an answer. "To aid the Order. To escape from the Dark Lord. To help my son."

Arthur released a heavy sigh and lowered himself into a seat to transcribe the interview.

"How do you propose to aid the Order of the Phoenix?"

"I have information regarding the Dark Lord's plans, insight into his strategies and I will fight against his forces should the need arise."

Kingsley stepped back and allowed Malfoy's head to loll to the side as he contemplated the words. "Are you aware of the identities of traitors and Death Eaters within the Order and the Ministry?"

"Yes. I can provide names."

A shocked pause silenced the Order members as Lucius reeled off a list of personnel, some of them a little too close to home for comfort.

"What do you want in return?"

"Refuge for my family until…"

Arthur sidestepped Kingsley and watched Lucius with careful suspicion. "You said you wanted to help your son. What does he need help with?"

The struggle resurfaced on Lucius' face and Draco growled, jolting in his restraints until Narcissa shot him a firm, reassuring look.

"He…he…needs help with a girl."

Hermione was incredulous, her eyes wide as she stepped forward. Luna clutched urgently at her arm, holding her back as she pleaded for her to calm down. "A girl? After all this mania, fervour, you've betrayed your master for some girl?"

Arthur placed a restraining hand on her shoulder and pressed her back. He took the three confiscated wands from her white knuckled grip and seated her before the transcript.

Kingsley continued to pace, his eyes now intent on Draco. The small of vial of Veritaserum appeared once more and he stepped up to the younger man and proffered it with a raised brow. Pride and anger struggled for dominance on Draco's features and he darted a furious look around the room.

"They stay." Kingsley answered the unspoken question.

Pale from blood loss, Malfoy closed his eyes, pain evident on every feature as he obediently took the drops of the clear liquid and forced himself to swallow with obvious reluctance. Like his father, he fought the effects of the potion but his resistance was short lived. Narcissa watched his reaction with something akin to tender resignation.

"Who is this girl?"

The sound that emerged from Draco Malfoy's mouth was the closest Hermione had ever heard to the embodiment of true misery and she angrily relished the moment.

"Who is she?" she pressed.

Draco's features twisted as his body bowed. The chair and his restraints groaned under his efforts to break free but nothing gave and the potion overcame him.

"You."

Hermione felt a cold sweat sweep up the base of neck, making her tremble and dizzy as her stomach rebelled against his words. "Come to finish the job, have you? Foolhardy strategy, walking straight into our camp!"

"No," he whimpered as Hermione watched his milky gaze settle blearily on her, "…love you. I…" he groaned again, his eyes closing tiredly, "…want you."

A furious scream ripped from her throat and she was out of her seat in an instant, backhanding him without a thought. The sharp smack echoed across the room and Hermione instantly regretted her actions. She wasn't a violent person…to strike another…a person who was defenceless was against her nature and her every principle. A shuddering breath left her and she turned away, allowing Luna to wrap her in her arms and concealed her face in the folds of her dark scarf.

"Liar," she whispered, the sound muffled.

He seemed to have heard regardless. "I'm not lying. I…I love you and my parents have decided to support me…"

"Enough!" Narcissa demanded. "Please. Draco has told you his reasons and now he needs a healer. Lucius and I can stay and answer the rest of your questions but…"

She trailed off and Kingsley regarded her with a grim nod.

"Miss Granger, untie Mr. Malfoy and escort him to Healer Rose. We will inform you as to the conclusive contents of this interview afterwards."

He held up a restraining hand and she swung towards him, ready to argue. "Now please, Miss Granger. Miss Lovegood, please find Molly and tell her to gather the Order members; everyone needs to be informed about our new…allies."

Hermione hung her head to conceal the frustrated tears which welled in her eyes. A soothing hand, likely Luna's, stroked her back until she could pull herself upright to face them. When she did, what she saw in Draco's earnest expression made the nausea, the anger and the tears rise all over again.

"No sudden moves, Malfoy." She warned as she moved to stand by his side, muttering the counter curse to loosen the ropes holding him to the chair. He nodded with some effort but his eyes seemed to seek hers and she studiously avoided them.

He attempted to stand and faltered, his legs shaking precariously as Hermione moved reluctantly to support him. She led him slowly from the tent, counting her steps as she attempted to ignore the heady scent of fresh blood and fire which seemed to cling to his shredded robes. At her side, her sweater steadily soaked up the blood which seemed to bubble from beneath his skin.

"Hermione…" he rasped, his voice intimately close.

"Don't call me that!" She snapped. "Don't speak. You've punctured a lung so save your breath!"

"Aunt Bella has good aim."

Pity was a bitter taste in her mouth as she clamped down on her thoughts. Instead of replying, she steered him past the Mess tent towards the infirmary where both Healer Rose and Healer Seya tended to their long term patients.

His steps dragging, Hermione ducked under his arm and hoisted him the last few feet, pushing aside the tent flap until she met the surprised eyes of both Healers who stared at her charge with something akin to horror.

"He needs help, now. It looks like a penetrating stab wound which punctured a lung." She blurted immediately, setting him down on the nearest cot as both Healers bustled over, wands at the ready.

"…nicked bone…damaged nerves…dangerously close to the heart…"

Hermione blocked her ears to the talk and settled into a nearby chair. She looked everywhere but at Malfoy, opting instead to focus on the sleeping form of Angelina Johnson who had suffered considerable burns during her last mission. The pink patches of healing skin were a stark contrast to the rest of her beautiful chocolate visage and Hermione found it much easier to focus her emotions until she felt little pity for the man who moaned as the Healers cut away what remained of his shirt.

"We need to drain the blood from his pleural cavity." Healer Rose was muttering just as Hermione fought to tune them out. "We need to…"

A scream ripped from Malfoy's throat as the Healers continued. The heavy scent of freshly spilt blood reached Hermione a moment later. She stood with a start and darted out of the tent.

She could see the encampment's centre square from where she stood. There was already a gathered crowd awaiting news as Molly hushed and calmed them, her amplified voice shouting down angry questions and exclamations as the words 'Malfoy' and 'Snape' were brought to her ears on a breeze. She could still hear the agonised moans which came from the infirmary however and she stepped further away, both angered and relieved by her own cowardice.

As she continued to watch, Molly stepped aside to allow Arthur to take the podium. His words seemed to appease the crowd somewhat and several Aurors could be seen, nodding reluctantly at his words before they broke from the civilians to assemble around Kingsley who stood to the side. Angry mutterings still seemed to circulate but the crowd was dispersing, wandering back towards their own tents even as a few continued to eye Arthur mistrustfully.

She longed to join them. Whether to add to the ire or to calm the crowd she wasn't sure; she didn't want the Malfoys here anymore than they did and after the horrifying revelation…she wasn't sure she could stand to face Draco again. The thought…the mere concept that he loved her sickened her to the bone. Did years of torment and disgust not mean anything? With those few damnable words, he had managed to destabilise one of main pillars of her beliefs. Malfoys were elitist blood purists; it was laughable that they would consider her above the status of a house elf.

Hermione suddenly wished Ron was here. Harry too. She may never have needed their protection from Draco Malfoy, not truly, but it was still nice to have a reminder there of their old school rivalry, when Malfoy had stood clearly with his party of Death Eaters and Slytherins and she with the Order. A buffer…emotional and physical.

"Granger." Healer Seya called as he emerged from the tent, drying his hands before he tucked his wand back into a hidden pocket. "We've stabilised Malfoy. He's asking for you."

Hermione nodded but didn't follow him back into the infirmary. She didn't want to go. She contemplated just ignoring his summons and heading back to own tent. But she wasn't a little school girl anymore, avoiding or ignoring Draco Malfoy wasn't going to solve their…dilemma. And that's what it was…he didn't love her…he may have thought he did but…

Veritaserum could only reveal what the mind perceived as truth not what the heart truly felt.

Pushing back her unease, she followed Healer Seya back in, once more overwhelmed by the heavy smell of blood. She turned to his pale figure prostrate on the bed nearest the entrance and avoided his eyes. His sheets, she noted, had been changed, but the grass surrounding the cot was still wet with his blood and the bandages which spanned his abdomen and chest were marred with tell-tale red fingerprints from where the Healers had handled his wounds.

"Hermione."

"Don't! You have no right." She snapped as the two Healers exchanged a look and retreated to their office, sectioned off at the back of the infirmary.

She worked up the nerve and looked at him. He stared back silently, resigned.

Draco Malfoy still looked like the petty, sharp featured bully she had known in the earlier years of Hogwarts but now he…he seemed older. Older in a way she was much too familiar with. The look on his face and in his eyes was something she saw every time she had seen Harry at his worst.

He was taller too; he'd grown a few inches since their last encounter at the manor. His sharp features while grim, seemed to fit his face better, they didn't overwhelm him as they had when he'd been younger…but he was still hard, stark angles. Only his full lips lent him any hint of softness amounting to what could only be described as a cruel beauty.

His eyes blazed in his pale face, the grey darker than she had ever seen them.

"You don't have to believe me, now. I will prove it to you." He rasped as he attempted to sit up. His wound obviously still pained him because he winced and dropped his head to the pillow again.

Hermione stepped back, furious and disgusted. "Don't Malfoy. I don't want you to prove anything to me. I hate you…I will always hate you."

Draco winced at her words but he never looked away. "I love you nonetheless. Even if you hate me until the day you die, I will…"

"I have a boyfriend. I have Ron and I love him! Even if I didn't, nothing, nothing could overcome the loathing and contempt I feel for you."

His expression remained grim as he nodded. "I don't expect you to. I don't even want you to."

Hermione wanted to laugh and cry, not believing a single foul word which he spoke. "You've just contradicted yourself, Malfoy! You say you love me but now you say you don't!"

"I do!" He bit back, cursing as shifted too sharply. "All I wanted when I came here was to make sure you'd be safe. I never want to meet you across a battlefield, I never wanted my parents to…I just…Granger, I've been a coward. It was easier to hate you than to love you and I chose the easy path but…but I realise now that…"

"Shut up." She hissed as she made for the exit.

"I'm sorry!" His voice was sharply cut off and Hermione remembered how much it must have pained him to speak above a whisper. "You never have to accept anything else from me but please accept that."

"What exactly are you sorry for, Malfoy?" she silently backtracked to his bedside, standing over the low lying cot so she could relish the feel of being able to stand over him while he was bed bound. "The years of derogatory insults in Hogwarts or for letting me suffer under Bellatrix's unique form of hospitality while my friends rotted in your dungeons?"

"All of it." He whispered back. "I just want…"

She leant down suddenly, letting her hair fall like a curtain around their faces as she hissed angrily. "You want, you want, you want! What about what I want, huh?"

"I'll give you whatever you want." He whispered back in the intimacy of their position.

"I want you to take your parents and leave. Disappear. Go where you like and never come back. Never speak about this ever again."

His expression twisted. "Except that. I can't give you that."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because I'm going to protect you until this war ends. Nothing would make me happier than to die for you."

Hermione watched him with angry tears blurring her vision. Her hair cast shadows over his face, making him look grimmer but younger, vulnerable in a way she didn't want to understand.

"You're sick, Malfoy. I don't want anyone dying for me. Not even you. Making a martyr of yourself is a waste and a useless endeavour. Nothing will change what's between us."

"If you're alive in the world somewhere, happy and whole, then I'll consider my life well lived."


End file.
